…Her mind wandered as she lay there, remembering, traveling through her thoughts, trying to understand everything that had occurred.

Suddenly a spasm seemed to rock her and she shuddered with pleasure, as though someone had tapped a tuning fork, and ripple after ripple echoed throughout her body. Some speck of memory shot through her of being filled by a cock that wasn’t human, yet pleasuring her so deeply she spasmed with the phantom of an orgasm just at the mere thought.

Her eyes shot open, her body trembled as the odd sensations passing through her. The flash of memory was gone, but the vestiges of desire still clung to her. What was that?

There was something there, some glimmer of a heated encounter that settled just below the surface of conscious memory. Her hands slid along her body, over the firm mounds of her breasts; her nipples twisted into tight nubs as the sensual echoes washed over her.

She leaned back, wanting that memory to fully reveal itself. Who was it who had given her so much pleasure? And it was pleasure, because the way her body was responding said it couldn’t be anything else. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and allowed her hands to stroke over her slippery abdomen, down across her stomach to her mound, and then she slid two fingers into her pussy, trying to revive that fleeting speck of memory and bring it back to the surface of her mind.

The lingering scent of the bubbles whirled around her and through her, reminiscent of—something, or someone.

Her fingers stroked inside her pussy, driving her passion higher. She remembered the press of a body, but there was something different about it. It wasn’t like other men, it was more, so much more. Her fingers thrust slowly in and out while her other hand fingered and tugged at her nipples and the heat throbbed inside her.

She remembered touching a cock, unlike any she had ever felt before, with deep ridges along its length. And she recollected those ridges rippling inside her pussy, bringing her more pleasure than she had ever known. She felt the cock spreading her, the friction as he thrust and ground against her, the pulsing heat of him. She arched, her fingers buried inside her as memory began to engulf her.

Who was it? Why could she only experience the sensations? Why couldn’t she see his face? She could only perceive the feel of him, his scent, his strength, cool darkness surrounding them both.

She swirled a finger over her clit, needing the memories. Her body opened to the sensations they invoked. Arching upward, she searched for release, for the moment of rapture she had felt when that cock had pressed deep, pulsing with release as her body wrapped around it, sheathing it with her own wet arousal.

She tried to stifle the moan of pleasure as she exploded at the fragment of intense erotic imagery, pulsed around her fingers, spilling her orgasm into the pleasurable figment of a memory tinged with erotic sensations.

Elana dropped back into the water and slid her fingers from her pussy, shuddering with one final spasm.

Had it all been just a dream? Her overactive fertile imagination taking over? Was her clouded impression that of the man who had saved her from drowning?